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Kristina Gong

Hometown: Lakewood Ranch, Florida

Interdisciplinary Studies Major

Kristina Gong is from Shanghai, China. She spent her first 18 years in her hometown and now she is a rising sophomore at Emory University. She likes anime, badminton, drawing and traveling. She often prefers a little sweetness in her food and she loves desserts. Although she doesn’t cook very often, she is willing to learn new dishes. She is currently learning to bake.

Reflection on Making

Tagliatelle / Spaghetti Bolognese

Everyone in my family was looking forward to the pasta dinner I was preparing. Since my mother and my aunt do not favor any dairy products, I rubbed the cream-based sauce out of my choice of sauces. I finally chose Bolognese sauce for my noodles because it had plenty of meat and vegetables in it, which made for a well-balanced dinner. Dinner has always been the most important meal in my family. The last meal before sleep is highly valued. I had hoped to prepare a dinner that was both delicious and nutritious.

The Bolognese sauce is a meat-based pasta sauce. It is one of the many “ragùs” in Italy. The ingredients of the ragù vary in different regions, having different combinations of meat and vegetables. Napoleon brought the French cuisine along with his army to Italy in 1796. Among the dishes he brought was the ragù. In French it was called ragout, which was a stew of meat or vegetables. Initially, ragù was not a sauce. Rather, it was served as a main dish. But later people began to spread the stew on toasted bread and it gradually became a sauce. Given the variety of ingredients in the Bolognese sauce, spaghetti Bolognese can be a very nutritious dish. The noodles provide the whole grain and carbohydrates; the meat provides protein; and the various vegetables help balance the diet. Bolognese sauce can be adapted to one’s taste easily. There are plenty of home recipes shared by netizens offering different versions of the Bolognese sauce. Despite all these variations, tomato remains the main ingredient. Tagliatelle Bolognese is now a common dish at home in Italy, although it was only for the aristocrats when it was first created.

One of the interesting things I have found about the dish is that Bolognese sauce is not often served with tagliatelle in the restaurants. When searching for “Bolognese” I discovered that the results returned by the search engine contained “spaghetti” instead of “tagliatelle”. It seems most of the time people just use spaghetti as the noodles for Bolognese sauce, and it has become a popular “Italian” dish! However, it is said that in Italy, the Bolognese sauce is only served with tagliatelle, tortellini or gnocchi. Perhaps when the Italian noodles were introduced to other countries, spaghetti fit best among all other noodles with the prototype of noodles in most people’s minds. They were probably the most available of all. Indeed, “spaghetti Bolognese” does sound Italian enough. The traditional noodle, Tagliatelle, originates in Emilia Romagna in the north of Italy. The humorist Augusto Majani invented a romantic story for it. He said the tagliatelle was invented by a chef who was inspired by the blond hair of the beautiful princess Lucrezia Borgia. The princess was passing through Bologna on her way to marry a Duke. He cut the traditional lasagna into stripes and it was named tagliatelle. Although the story is invented, it is truly as beautiful as any reader could expect from the origin of a traditional food. Besides, at least we can see from the story that Bolognese sauce and tagliatelle are closely related since Majani had the story take place in Bologna specifically. Tagliatelle undoubtedly matches well with Bolognese sauce. Italians do not even have to mention Bolognese sauce when ordering the noodles. Tagliatelle Bolognese in Italian is “tagliatelle al ragù”. Tagliatelle is broad and flat, which makes it hold the sauce perfectly. Fresh-made tagliatelle have a more al dente texture and absorb the flavor of the sauce well.

I could tell from the expressions of my family members that the dinner I cooked was successful. The noodles met the tastes of most of my family, except my Grandma- onion and garlic are unbearable to her (the two vegetables are almost present in every pasta sauce). So I was really happy that even she tasted some of my noodles. After all the ingredients were added, I let the sauce simmer for several hours to make it even tastier. Many of the stories shared by the netizens were about their grandmother spending the afternoon preparing the noodle dish. I looked around in the kitchen, trying to grab some atmosphere from the Italian grandma. Would she be feeling a sense of accomplishment as I did when the smell of the sauce rushed out into the room? Would she feel satisfied and proud following her traditional home recipes? What about the rest of the family? Were they helping her or perhaps she preferred no help? It suddenly occurred to me that at least there was one thing we had in common- we were both female. In Artusi’s book, he was writing for the “kind ladies” and “good housewives”, though he himself may have never touched the kitchen table. The same also existed in Chinese history. Most of the authors of recipe books and the chefs were men, while it was mostly women who cooked at home. I soon realized that this was probably because cooks and chefs are occupations. In the past women seldom had official jobs since their main work was inside the house. Cooking as an occupation is surely different from cooking for the family. The purpose of a job is to make a living while preparing meals at home is for the pleasure of the family or oneself, to show care and love. They yield different feelings. In one story in ancient times, a high official was making porridge for his sick elder sister. They got plenty of servants, yet the official insisted on cooking and feeding his sister by himself despite his old age. Activities around food among family members always have something special in them, different from that among friends. We care for each other deeply, as we carefully and naturally avoid the food they don’t like; yet in another way, we know they won’t truly blame us if we spoil the food. It is this care for each other and the knowing of mutual care that make the food activity at home so special. In my family, the best banquet we offer to a friend is actually a meal cooked at home. I am happy that my family enjoyed the noodle dinner I prepared.

"Summer"

By: Kristina Gong

I was under the shade of a tall tree with many others around me. I knew some of those next to me, but most of them were strangers. We sang from time to time in the hot summer wind. “This one’s beautiful.” A human child’s face zoomed in. I stopped singing. She put an edamame inside between the bamboo sticks. I left it there. I wasn’t hungry. Other humans were talking next to me, exchanging some paper and coin. “Now he is yours to take care of.” I caught the voice of an older human.

I looked underneath, suddenly, the ground was moving away and away from me. I went from the shade into the sun, then back to the shade again. Hot wind came at my face, making it no less cool. The little house made of bamboo sticks in which I was trapped swayed rhythmically. Beside me, two legs were moving in the same rhythm. “Hold the cage still, or he will feel dizzy.” The voice of the older human. The swaying stopped for some time, but gradually it resumed, my edamame rolling from one side to another. I was feeling less tense now, and let out a sing. Immediately the young human lifted me up. “He sings beautifully!” She was excited. I was wondering is “beautiful” her only vocabulary for me. The older voice followed, “Katydids are singers in the summer.” I let out another sing.

I was taken to many places. I landed on a stone with water below. Pink flowers grew out of the water, filling the whole pond. I went down under the huge stony thing called “bridge”. It was much cooler here, under the shade. Human voice filled the shade. I saw birds in larger houses than the one I was in. I didn’t like them. I watched some other old human brushing on the ground with a stick brush longer than the arm of the human child holding me. She talked something to the old human and took the stick. I was in the hand of the old human now. “Write the poem you read yesterday.” His voice came from above.

When the shade of my little house became right underneath me, the two humans stepped into a room packed with humans. Even more voice than under the bridge. And…the smell!! I’ve never had this smell before. Much more complex than the smell of edamame, and much stronger! I must have lost myself in these smells because I didn’t notice when two big bowls appeared in front of my two humans. I couldn’t get a whole view of what was in the bowl from where I was, but I could see long white stripes in brown liquid, some green plant chopped in pieces on the surface. I could tell from the looks of them and other humans around that they were happy. They slurped the white stripes merrily with a content look on their face. “How many shrimps do you get Grandpa?” The young human put a pink bent-shaped thing into her mouth, which was perhaps hidden under the white stripes. “Three. Do you want more? I do not like shrimps that much.” All the bustling noise and smell made me giddy. I secretly chomped on my edamame.

Then we were on the road again. My little bamboo house swayed more wildly as the young child’s belly was full. “Slow down! Or do you want to go to the hospital?” The swaying stopped.
“Can we eat the Yangchun Noodles again tomorrow Grandpa?”
“We can come next week, or you will soon get tired of it.”
“But it’s delicious! I will always like it.”
“The most delicious food becomes repugnant if you eat it every day.”

The topic didn’t continue. The swaying continued, and it became faster and faster. The human child started running. I looked up and bright, vivid colors filled my vision. “Grandpa, can I have a balloon?” The old human said she was not a kid anymore and that balloons were for small kids. “But I will be only growing older. If I cannot have the balloon now I will never have the chance to have them. This is the most suitable time!” It seemed the human child all of a sudden mastered the art of speaking.

Now the child had the balloon in her other hand. I let out a sing again.

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